She turns her face to
the autumn sunits warmth highlighting auburn hairnow sprinkled with silvera prelude to the Winter yearsPerched on a standing stoneone of eight in a grassy circleshe gazes outward to the mountains listening to echoes of past timesIn the kind noon small birds singfrom every tree, crickets chirp in
the rushesa soft breeze moves among the
sparklesof late dewdrops in the sunThe woman sits and listensbreathing in the golden daythe rustle of dying leaves whispers
"October"she will remember this day in
mid-winter

There was
weeping when the childdonned the cloak of pain:the curse of generation,as we leave it, it remains;pursuing us down bloodline,intangible but real,so following the
shadow-scent,it dogged the child's heel.For the child cast a shadow
as it flewand falling through the
heavensinto flesh, was made anew.So its people swaddled itand hid away its nakedness,with drooping hood,long sleeve and ragged hem;its motion clumsy,and its face was never seen
again.

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About the authors

Etienne Muller,
married to Pam, was born in South Africa in
1957 and has lived in Co. Kerry in Ireland
since 1977 where he runs the family art
gallery near the village of Sneem. He enjoys
building wooden boats and sea-kayaks,
windsurfing, playing the guitar, and
attempting to express his philosophical
outlook in the occasional poem.

Pam Muller was
born in South Africa in 1958 and moved to
Ireland in 1978. Pam is a classical Homoeopath
as well as being known for her unique
art-work.

Michael Muller,
Pam and Etienne's son, was born in Ireland in
1981 and Lives in Co. Kerry. He was an award
winner in the first Poetry In The Round
competition and has been writing stories and
poetry from a very young age.